


We ain’t got nowhere to go, caught up in the afterglow.

by timelessblooming



Category: ATEEZ (Band)
Genre: Attempt at Humor, Explicit Sexual Content, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Hand Jobs, M/M, Minor Kim Hongjoong/Park Seonghwa, thigh riding, unusually many references to the stars
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-18
Updated: 2019-06-18
Packaged: 2020-05-14 02:18:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,851
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19263964
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/timelessblooming/pseuds/timelessblooming
Summary: “I’m really sorry about that,” Wooyoung starts, and he knows his face is showing every form of embarrassment, along with some very red cheeks and ears. “And sorry if your papers are all messed up now, and filled with dirt and ants and everything else on this nasty sidewalk-“ Wooyoung stops abruptly as the stranger covers his face with a hand and his eyes scrunch up.It takes him a while to understand he is being laughed at, and when it hits he smiles awkwardly, running a hand through his hair- beginning to curl from the oncoming night of dew.. . .Wooyoung is a dance major, interested in astronomy. It's by luck he collides with the maths and robotic science major, Yeosang, that shines brighter than Sirius.





	We ain’t got nowhere to go, caught up in the afterglow.

**Author's Note:**

> Hadn't planned Wooyoung and Yeosang to be my first contribution (mainly because I have something steamy planned for Wooyoung and Yunho), but this came to me and I felt it in my bones.
> 
> Title from Afterglow by All Time Low.
> 
> Enjoy~

When Wooyoung enrolled in his university life of the arts and music, he’d been prepared for new friends, endless parties and the occasional hook-up or short-term partner. What he hadn’t exactly planned for, was running straight into and toppling over the biggest mystery he’d ever encountered throughout his whole twenty years of life.

“Oh my- I am so sorry!” Wooyoung scrambles after the strangers flying papers and trying desperately not to step a footprint onto any of the ones on the ground already.

There’s a soft sigh from the stranger, and as Wooyoung picks up the last piece of paper he dares a glance up.

The weather is dimmed and leaning into the night, so Wooyoung can’t even use the normal saying of the sun glowing like a halo around this beautiful stranger, but he swears, the night hugs this person nicer than daylight ever could.

Sharp and dark eyes stare down at Wooyoung with little to no emotion, and Wooyoung gets up amazingly fast so he’s eye-to-eye with the stranger.

“I’m really sorry about that,” Wooyoung starts, and he knows his face is showing every form of embarrassment, along with some very red cheeks and ears. “And sorry if your papers are all messed up now, and filled with dirt and ants and everything else on this nasty sidewalk-“ Wooyoung stops abruptly as the stranger covers his face with a hand and his eyes scrunch up.

It takes him a while to understand he is being laughed at, and when it hits he smiles awkwardly, running a hand through his hair- beginning to curl from the oncoming night of dew.

The stranger takes the papers from Wooyoung’s startled hands, “it’s fine, I obviously weren’t looking where I was going either or I’d have sidestepped.”

The stranger's voice is what Wooyoung would describe as extravagant. It jumps and lands with solid beats, but there’s this slight sensuality that catches your attention and makes you lean in further. The s-sounds are stretched out and soft-spoken, a contrast to the deeper chant that his vocals account for.

“Still, a little sorry,” Wooyoung bows slightly and the stranger blinks at him. His cheeks are pink and his lips even pinker, and they match perfectly with his orange pastel shirt and wide-legged jeans- which are usually not the smartest clothes Wooyoung’s ever laid eyes on, but this person has a way of holding himself that Wooyoung feels himself melt at.

Wooyoung smiles, and before he loses the little courage and soul still back in him, he says, “I am Wooyoung.”

The stranger smiles again, hand brushing some tan and pesky bangs away from his eyes, “I’m Yeosang~”

 

. . .

 

Wooyoung throws himself headfirst onto the couch, face smushed against the pillows as he breathes in dust and whatever particles this couch contains, trying his hardest not to scream.

“You know what? Sometimes I don’t get why this is my life. I came to university, to get a degree, not teenagers.” Yunho kicks at Wooyoung and he flips around to look at his roommate, “You okay or?”

Wooyoung grunts, “I think I just embarrassed myself in front of the best-looking man on campus and I’m contemplating whether or not I’d like to meet him again or drop out.”

It hadn’t been a bad encounter after Wooyoung had made him spill all his papers and that was in the past. He’d introduced himself and Yeosang even gave a name back, but all too quickly it all ended when Yeosang told him he really needed to get going because he was late for work and then Wooyoung’s whole life-crisis left him standing on the sidewalk.

“That’s rough, buddy.” Yunho claps his butt twice and then walks towards the kitchen, “anyways, San and Hongjoong are out so _we’re_ making ramyun. And yes, there’s an emphasis on ‘we’re’ because I’m not making it for you,” Yunho says with a laugh and then he puts on the radio, making Wooyoung groan as a love song starts flowing throughout the room.

“Yunhonie, I have never believed in love at first sight- but, just the thought of him is euphoric,” Wooyoung says as he pulls out the packets of ramyun, eyes unfocused as he listens to the song.

It’s not like he suddenly believes in love at first sight, but Yeosang leaves him in some kind of afterglow even if their interaction was almost not qualified as an interaction, and Wooyoung craves more of that. More of Yeosang’s gravity, so it might not be love at first sight, but it is definitely the start of an addiction to Yeosang’s persona.

 

. . .

 

The second time he sees Yeosang, he’s sat in the corner of the university’s courtyard, his bangs held back by a black hair-band. It’s like Yeosang compels Wooyoung to walk towards him, and he places his book on the table carefully, before taking a place beside Yeosang.

“I like your outfit,” Yeosang says before even looking up, and Wooyoung completely startles as his voice fills his body again. The voice that drips hot molasses and sweetness, running all throughout Wooyoung’s bloodstream as if it belonged there all along. “It really fits your body,” Yeosang finally grazes his eyes over Wooyoung and his whole-body flush as he sits up straight with a wide smile.

“I like yours too,” Wooyoung mutters, and it might even be an understatement when he says ‘like’ because Yeosang’s fashion sense is on another level. Everything seems to fit him, and the tight jeans painted on Yeosang’s thighs are just as nice as the loose ones from the other night.

Wooyoung pulls his book closer, leaning an elbow on it, “am I bothering you, or can I sit with you reading for a bit before my next class?” Wooyoung asks, and he knows he tucks his hair behind his ear very shyly, but it only seems to make Yeosang’s cheeks tint pink in return, so he doesn’t think too long over it.

“It’s fine, what’s your next class?”

Yeosang taps his pencil against his notes, and Wooyoung watches his fingers for a second; slender and thin.

Wooyoung tips his head to the side, “contemporary dance, not my strongest genre but it’s good at building stamina.” Wooyoung smiles as Yeosang watches his gym back for a couple of seconds, his eyebrows pinched.

“You have a dancer’s figure~” Yeosang mutters at last and Wooyoung’s whole face burns up, and he can feel his cheeks flaming as they both blink and then turn to look at their books.

The silence stretches for just a couple of seconds but Wooyoung counts all of his breaths to a total of zero, so he decides to quickly change the topic.

“What’s your major?”

Yeosang gives a relieved smile, “math and robotic science, with a minor in dance. I reckon you’re a full dancing major?” Yeosang asks softly, and Wooyoung looks him over appreciatively. 

The fact that Yeosang continues to make Wooyoung fall over his wonder and take him in for the first time once again, makes his heart beat faster than he’s sure is possible for it.

“Yeah, dancing has always been my call. I like astronomy too, though, so I’m taking a few courses there.” Wooyoung pushes his book in front of him, “hence why I’m reading about the Andromeda galaxy,” Wooyoung says and Yeosang leans in to look at the cover with a sigh of interest.

It’s like an art in itself to watch Yeosang; his face doesn’t give much to interpret, but Wooyoung finds it actually does in the most intense and subtle way.

It’s like a slight gust of wind on a warm summer day; a small pull on his eyebrows, the flickers of his eyes or a sigh that can contain every emotion mankind has names for.

“Why math and science along with dance?”

Yeosang smiles as he leans in, arms leaning onto the table as he scoots towards Wooyoung, “I like fixing things and creating them, and I am fantastic at geeking out when I talk about robots. The dance is to relieve myself for the stress of my major,” Yeosang states, folding a page in his notes unconsciously, “I quickly figured out I needed something like that to survive the stress of math.” 

Yeosang’s laugh follows his statement, and Wooyoung welcomes it this time with a laugh of his own. Falling back into a relaxed wonder as Yeosang enrolls him into the fantastic wonder of his story-telling and life.

 

. . .

 

The third time he stares into Yeosang’s dark eyes, they’re filled with recognition and he smiles lightly as they circle each other and meet in the garden at some random frat party that Wooyoung attended with his whole apartment just to stagger around with strangers.

Yeosang’s clothes today is almost too much for Wooyoung to handle, as his pretty neck is tied with three different chokers- all simple gold chains. The red turtleneck he is wearing highlights his tan and golden skin and it’s a miracle that Wooyoung doesn’t swoon right into his arms.

There’s a minute of silence as they glance over each other silently, before Wooyoung curls closer and leans in to smile brightly at Yeosang. “You look good,” Wooyoung says clearly so it’s one hundred percent sure Yeosang hears the compliment.

Slender hands curl around Wooyoung’s arm and the breathing space between them is suddenly shared. Wooyoung can only enjoy this new nature and the smiles they’re sending from their flushed faces.

“So, how do you know about this party?”

Wooyoung takes a sip of his cup, “one of my roommates, San, knows Taeyong through a class. I came to morally support my other roommate, Hongjoong, in talking to this guy he’s been raving about the last months.”

Yeosang tilts his head in acknowledgment, “Hongjoong? It sounds familiar. Is it the upbeat red-haired guy who sings at karaokes on Fridays?”

Wooyoung leans forward as his body falls with laughter, and he nods against Yeosang’s shoulder before leaning back with a wide grin spread over his face.

Yeosang’s eyes crinkle at him in a new way, and Wooyoung glances up quickly at the night sky- it might fit Yeosang even better than the dim afternoon.

The lights in his eyes are a straight comparison to the stars that twinkle over them.

“That’d be him.”

Yeosang nods for a couple of seconds with a smile spread on his pink lips, his teeth settled into his bottom lip.

It’s a sight that ignites the veins inside Wooyoung, and in his tipsy state, it’s easy to lean into the heat that Yeosang produces in the cold night air.

Even though he’s tipsy the nerves of rejection still paints his mind, just for them to completely evaporate as Yeosang’s hand curls around his bicep tighter as they huddle together.

“I came with Seonghwa, who I assume is the mentioned crush of Hongjoong.” Yeosang chuckles, and Wooyoung has to nod in recognition at the name. It has been chanted a couple of times whenever Hongjoong felt completely miserable over his chances.

It’s easy to fall into a silence accompanied by shy looks and wandering eyes- contrary to every fiber in Wooyoung’s body that really wants to either take Yeosang home with him or go home with him, he’d appreciate getting to know Yeosang a lot more. It’s like his heart is yearning for all the attention he can get from Yeosang, and for once it isn’t purely driven by the need to receive an orgasm at the end of the night.

Yeosang tilts his head slightly to the side, “you’re captivating, Wooyoung. I really like that.” Yeosang’s voice is almost singing as the statement clears away the silence between them.

Wooyoung can’t describe anything from the atmosphere before their lips meet, but every positive adjective in this world can describe the feeling in his body when Yeosang’s hand curls tighter around his arm, and his free hand curls into the soft brown strands at the nape of his neck. 

It’s chaste and as beautiful as Yeosang.

Yeosang smiles against his lips, pulling away and Wooyoung blinks with fond eyes at the man in front of him.

 

. . .

The fourth time he watches Yeosang’s face mold into various emotions and experiences his sighs, they’re sat in front of each other in a cafe; it’d been by an accident they even collided, but Wooyoung can almost see the lines of the universe working in their favor as he sips his iced americano.

Yeosang’s hand is tapping at Wooyoung’s fingers as he lists his future chores off, “my dance class is with miss Kim, you’ve ever had her?”

Wooyoung looks up from their hands, nodding his head and tilting into Yeosang’s lopsided smile. “Yeah, last year she was my contact teacher for our end-of-the-year assignment,” Wooyoung says, interlacing his fingers loosely with Yeosang’s.

There’s a freckle on his hand, faint and small, but it stands out along his clean skin. It’s pretty, but not as the one birthmark that adorns Yeosang’s face.

Yeosang admitted to covering it up, but Wooyoung finds he also likes the soft and uncovered face of Yeosang; a blank canvas, yet filled to the brim with awaiting emotions that’ll soon burst out like flowers in the spring on is face.

The birthmark is like a galaxy, just swarming the universe prettily while producing the stars that form in Yeosang’s eyes every time he blinks at Wooyoung.

“Oh, really? What was your final assignment on?”

Yeosang tilts his head into his palm, the birthmark tilting towards the sky. “It was based on our personal wonders of the universe, so I made mine on a star’s birth.”

 

. . .

 

Yunho pokes Hongjoong‘s arm, and Wooyoung looks over at the two. “If you have something to say, please do.” Wooyoung looks up at Yunho after his statement.

“Nothing, nothing~,” Hongjoong says offhandedly, smiling mischievously, “just your infuriation with Yeosang is cute. He isn’t easily fond of people, you know?”

Wooyoung shakes his head because never once has Yeosang ever seemed hostile to him. The reason why Hongjoong says this, however, is evidently clear to him.

Wooyoung can believe that to Hongjoong he’ll feel reserved and even a little cold, because to understand Yeosang is an art that takes the patience and willingness to understand. You’ll have to take in the small details to have an understanding of the whole damn masterpiece that Yeosang presents.

It’s hard to contradict this to Hongjoong because it’s a complexity to understand and Wooyoung feels like it’s the magic to Yeosang; to watch him and see the beautiful characteristics of his persona be revealed.

Even more, Wooyoung can’t be sure whether Yeosang decides to let people see what he wants.

Yeosang doesn’t strike Wooyoung as hostile and not at all manipulative. It’s not a characteristic that Wooyoung can see run through Yeosang, can’t hear his voice let out these subtle demands, see his body mold into this person.

“I think you’re wrong, hyung.” Wooyoung’s stated it before he can think of anything else to say- at least he put on an honorific to soften the disagreement.

Hongjoong raises his eyebrows questioningly, but Wooyoung doesn’t elaborate. He doesn’t feel the need to do so, because Yeosang shouldn’t even be judged like that. 

“You guys are still going out tonight, right? Because I’ve invited Yeosang over for the night and it’d be cool with some privacy.”

Yunho whistles as he slides his way over to Wooyoung, curling around his middle and lifting him like he’s nothing more than dust on the couch. “Wooyoung-ie has some PG activities planned, I see,” Yunho says against the chest, arms tight around his middle as he jumps them up and down, “for that we will stay in tonight.”

Wooyoung swats at Yunho’s arms and freezes into a deadweight so Yunho groans.

“Do whatever you want, but San told me to tell you guys if you actually stayed, he’d quote, never let you inside this apartment again and you could forget everything about his shoulder massages.” Wooyoung smiles, blowing a raspberry at Yunho.

“Aish, child!” Yunho chokes, letting Wooyoung down and ducking away. 

Hongjoong laughs at the side, “of course we’ll leave.”

 

. . .

 

It had been a risk using Yeosang’s number for the first time to text him and ask him over for food and maybe a movie, but Wooyoung feels like it was right to do so.

It’s not easy to explain, but Wooyoung feels like it’s completely natural when he opens the door in grey sweats and a hoodie, to Yeosang in his own sweats and a tight long-sleeve, hair curly and wild on top of his head.

“I brought some seaweed chips,” Yeosang states, stepping inside and pushing his shoes off, “I love snacking while making food.”

Wooyoung smiles at Yeosang brightly, and like a natural gravity between stars in close proximity, they collide. It’s not hungry, but there isn’t a lack of passion.

It’s like an underlying tension and want, that’s subsided in favor of something more happening at the moment; nevertheless, it’ll break out into an eruption of star matter and create new wonders that’ll be better than the starting point.

Wooyoung hums against Yeosang’s lips as his arm encircles his neck, and the other moves underneath his arms and around to grab at a sharp shoulder. Yeosang’s hands are an easy weight on Wooyoung’s cheeks, and it’s this sweet movement that makes a smile interfere with their kiss.

Yeosang blinks a couple of times, before blushing furiously across his cheeks and nose, “I’ve thought a lot about doing that, I’ll admit.”

Wooyoung grins, “I would almost be offended if you hadn’t.”

Laughter fills the air as Wooyoung turns around and hops his way into the kitchen, Yeosang stumbling after him with a noise of disbelief. The slap at first on his arm is nothing, but then there is one at his ass and Wooyoung almost feels himself melt on the spot.

“At least make me dinner first, Yeosang-ie~” Wooyoung gasps, and he tries his hardest to maintain a flirty tone but the warmth in his cheeks shows his slight excitement and bewilder.

Yeosang’s laugh is breathless and warm, “Wooyoung-ah, I thought you’d be making me dinner first.”

They pout at each other afterward, both holding the other's eyes. It’s not a sentiment to Yeosang’s statement, but Wooyoung finds them heading down a new path which they’re both incredibly aware of.

It’s more a look to make sure the other part is following it along with them.

Wooyoung is the first to look away as he turns to the kitchen counter and puts the chips on it.

“I thought we could make some dak galbi? I’ve marinated the chicken already, so it’s almost just the rice cakes and vegetables we need to get ready.” Wooyoung smiles and Yeosang looks him over with a new face to Wooyoung’s understanding of the man in front of him.

Yeosang smiles at Wooyoung, and with a peck to his cheek he turns to their aprons, “it’s my favorite sweats, after all.”

 

. . .

 

Wooyoung’s legs are tangled with Yeosang’s as they’re sat on the couch. One leg is pushed between sweet thighs, while the other curls on top of the one pushed between his thighs.

It’s easy to fall onto their sides and stare at each other while they eat their food, a drama playing in the background.

“My family has grown into my hobby, I’d say,” Yeosang admits, chopsticks clicking against the bowl of his food. “They’re cool about my sexuality and has always been pretty relaxed about those matters. But, they want me to have a life that’s good, so dancing wasn’t their favorite card from me.”

Wooyoung nods, head tilting to the side to take in Yeosang’s open expression, “you wanted to pursue dance? Or at least try it as a living?”

Yeosang bites a rice cake over in half, “yeah, that was my first thought.”

With a free hand, he softly caresses the smooth of Yeosang’s thigh, “though, it’s not like I dislike my major. I got everything I wanted with the minor in dance, so I’m at peace.”

It’s nice to see Yeosang open like this, like a flower blooming or a star light-years away finally reaching the telescopes on earth.

Yeosang nods at him with curious eyes, placing his empty bowl on the living room table, and kindly taking Wooyoung’s as well with a smile.

“My family is a funny mix-match,” Wooyoung grins, “myeomma is a dancer herself- a contemporary, and she obliviously didn’t give me her good genes on that genre.” Wooyoung laughs, a smile on his face at just the thought of his mother, the backbone to his life.

“While my appa is a military man, throughout his whole being and my older brother is exactly a replica of the same values and hobbies,” Wooyoung says, accepting the light fingers running through his bleached hair at the nape of his neck. It’s comforting in a way that’s treasured and stored inside for longer than thought possible. “I think he’s exactly the perfect son, in my appa’s eyes. Not to say he doesn’t love me, but it’s harder to understand me.”

Wooyoung tilts into Yeosang’s touch, “it’s easy to understand my eomma’s passion for dance and her desire to care about her fashion, hair, and skin because she’s a woman. But, I’ve always had those same concerns and it was a delight to my eomma, so our relationship is fantastic. My appa on the other hand, couldn’t really put himself into my thoughts, so it’s always been divided between my brother and appa, and my eomma and I.”

Yeosang hums, “how about now, is it easier for him?”

It’s a shy smile to Yeosang, “we’re trying, is what I’ll conclude.”

Yeosang’s soft nod and tightening fingers makes Wooyoung laugh softly, “you’re easy to confide in, Yeosang.”

The skin of Yeosang’s jaw is soft under Wooyoung’s fingertips; even and without any scruff. The kiss to his cheek is tender and light. The kiss at his jaw is daring and new, but Yeosang welcomes it with a sigh of content- a sigh that resonates deep within Wooyoung’s bones.

“You’re like a never-ending afterglow,” Yeosang breathes and the statement hits Wooyoung like a strong punch to the stomach. His whole body puffs and he leans back to stare up at Yeosang’s face, not an ounce of skin that isn’t contoured in emotions.

It’s like the energy of a dance with a hidden message of want, lust, and desire. 

It’s like the beat of a song that makes your ears pump with blood and your whole body moves, bends, and senses. 

It’s like a touch that lights you up like the glow a star sprinkles upon you only on clear nights.

Yeosang’s lips are persistent, but so are Wooyoung’s. They curl into each other as Wooyoung’s hand find leverage on a muscular thigh, fingers massaging into the muscle.

Wooyoung welcomes the wandering fingers under his shirt: they skim lightly over his back, his spine and the arch into Yeosang’s body, is the collusion of the two.

It kicks them into each other, forces their breaths to become labored and pushes them into a heat that’s insufferable if they don’t have each other.

The lean onto each other’s thighs aren’t the best angle, but Wooyoung is more into the kisses that Yeosang has him captivated in.

Like gravity holds you down, Yeosang’s gravity lifts you up. Wooyoung trips on top of Yeosang, the oldest legs bending and pushing the thigh between Wooyoung’s upwards. 

“You’re okay with this, right?” Wooyoung breaks away to ask, breathing hard against Yeosang’s lips.

“ _Yeah_ , yeah, I am.”

Wooyoung smiles and the soothing hands that Yeosang runs over his back are an affirmation that they’re moving the same direction; into something new and unseen before.

“Great, because I really don’t want you to think this was a booty-call,” Wooyoung says with a laugh.

Yeosang smirks at that, “I wouldn’t mind if it was half a booty-call, though. We can have both.”

Wooyoung groans as he leans down, sliding along the muscles of Yeosang’s thigh.

The fingers that curl around Wooyoung’s thighs are harsh and takes a hold on them like it’s needed to hold one down. It’s exactly enough to make Wooyoung wonder whether the gravity he feels Yeosang owns, is mirrored in him and it’s everything Yeosang feels around _him_.

Wooyoung moans appreciatively as the muscles slide between his legs to his ass, and it’s so natural to curl his hands under Yeosang’s sweats, under his briefs, and around his cock.

Stars burn hot, but they burn hotter.

Yeosang’s eyes are dark, darker than normal as they stare up at Wooyoung, their lips tilted towards each other.

It’s hums and sighs of various emotions, a small pinch in Yeosang’s brows and drawn out purrs that fall into the room.

Wooyoung’s moving in easy slides up and down the hard muscle, the friction, not enough but good and the hard grip on his thigh and ass is a sure indication that Yeosang is finding the sensation good.

Wooyoung’s lips mouth against the shell of Yeosang’s ear, his wrist flicking up and bringing Yeosang into the full euphoria that he’s destined to stay in whenever he’s around Yeosang: wanting to share it and open him into the bliss that Wooyoung finds in Yeosang.

“Yeosang-ie~” Wooyoung moans and it’s easy to get lost in the desperate hum that falls from Yeosang’s lips, “can- _please_ push your sweats down a bit.”

As soon as Wooyoung’s hand is completely free, he can freely admire that Yeosang is pretty all over.

Wooyoung twitches on Yeosang’s thigh as the slender fingers move underneath his sweats, but they’re welcomed as Yeosang grips the flesh in his hand tightly and pulls him forward on his thigh. He angles it better and the slide falls naturally to Wooyoung’s rhythm.

Their lips meet in something akin a kiss because Wooyoung’s too distracted with his hands' movements and the desperate grinding onto Yeosang’s thigh.

The flick of his wrist is slow and deliberate as it moves over Yeosang’s cock; follows his hips rhythm to make sure Yeosang understands that there’s something better awaiting him. His fingers move over the cut head easily, picking up precome, that’s smeared down the shaft just seconds after.

It’s not the best handjob, but in his defense, he’s also really having blast on Yeosang’s thigh.

The grinding is easily addictive, with Yeosang pushing him forward and nipping at his neck, moaning against his neck, and sending vibrations into his skin, into his heart, and into his cock.

“ _Ah_ \- this might be, probably is, the hottest thing I’ve ever experienced-“ Yeosang grunts, an arm tightening around Wooyoung’s waist, pulling him closer, their chests pressed tightly into each other.

Wooyoung whimpers, “you’re so hot-“ Wooyoung hugs an arm around Yeosang’s neck, his hips speeding up and moving forward with a desperate whine.

Yeosang’s cock twitch in his hand, and he squeezes his hands a little tighter; the chant ‘up and down’ repeated inside his mind as it blanks out to welcome the building orgasm.

“Next time- _ah_ ,” Wooyoung moans, “it’s a- it’s a booty call.”

Yeosang nips under his ear, hand going to his cock. 

Wooyoung spasms as he presses over his crotch, palming the restrained cock.

“Want you to fuck me, sounds good?”

Their lips meet again, but it’s mostly breathing and whimpers. Yeosang crying out at the building tension, his cock leaking onto his fingers.

“Touché.”

Wooyoung gasps, mind starting to white out as his toes curl.

Slender fingers curl tightly into his asscheek and a loud whimper pierces the atmosphere of the apartment. Wooyoung’s wrist pulls the searing skin of Yeosang’s cock upwards and then white cum is spilling over Wooyoung’s hand, Yeosang’s shirt and sweats.

The sight is magnificent, and it warms Wooyoung’s whole body as he glances at Yeosang’s blissed-out face, eyes huge and dark, cheeks red.

The hand around his cock tightens and Yeosang massages it along with Wooyoung’s grinding.

Wooyoung’s hand pumps Yeosang’s dick two times to let him ride out his orgasm. Yeosang arches into his hand with a clear cry. Wooyoung pushes forward again and with a hitch in his breath, warmth fills his briefs.

“So good, Wooyoung-ssi~” Yeosang muses, the s’es pulled out to their fullest extent and pushed out with a pink tongue; Wooyoung whimpers as he fucks himself against Yeosang’s thighs throughout his whole orgasm.

Their breaths are loud as they try calming their hearts.

Their lips though are contoured in huge smiles and small puffs of giggles fly from both of them.

Yeosang’s hand massages the flesh of Wooyoung’s ass between his hands, and it’s a nice feeling.

It’s easy to fall in between moods with Yeosang, like winter and autumn not being completely different in the long run.

“This afterglow good as well?”

Wooyoung twirls Yeosang’s bangs away from his face, the strands damp between his fingers. Their eyes follow each other, and Yeosang’s wink like stars at him while he answers;

“The afterglow is a constant in our universe, Wooyoung.”

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you're well, thank you for reading x


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